


We Do It In The Dark

by SnitchesAndTalkers



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnitchesAndTalkers/pseuds/SnitchesAndTalkers
Summary: Pete and Patrick. Patrick and Pete. Doing what needs to be done.This is literally just a random sex scene that wouldn't fit anywhere else. There's no plot, no backstory and no ending. Just sexy, sexy smut.





	We Do It In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Porn with literally no plot. None whatsoever. Go ahead, try and find some plot. I'll wait.

"You need to tell me to stop."

Pete doesn't reply but he doesn't move away either, instead he leans back into him, allowing Patrick to gently nudge his legs apart, his knees inside Pete's as his hand moves lower, fingertips encountering the coarse hair that trails down from his bellybutton and between his legs. Patrick slides his hand a little lower, his hand slowly enveloping Pete's rapidly hardening cock, exploring, reacquainting himself with a body he once knew every inch of.

His hand slips lower, cupping the heavy swell of Pete's balls, squeezing oh so gently. Pete lets out a soft, high noise, his hips bucking against Patrick's hand, his short nails digging into Patrick's wrist as he holds him in place. Patrick wants to tell Pete that he loves him, that he's always loved him, that he's so sorry he fucked everything up but Pete's sighing his name and it's all he can do not to shove his shorts down to the floor and bury himself inside of him.

He slides his hand back around Pete's cock, begins to stroke slow and even, his thumb dipping into the slit and slicking the moisture he finds there around the head. Pete grunts, his hips moving in sharp, shallow little thrusts into Patrick's fist, his knuckles milk-pale as he grips the edge of the counter. 

He's getting close, his breathing ragged and uneven, his hips pushing desperately against Patrick's hand, head rolled back against his shoulder. Patrick's fingers are so taut against Pete's hip he's sure he must be bruising him but he doesn't seem to mind. Nor does he object to Patrick grinding his stiff cock against his ass through the fabric of their clothes, if anything Pete seems to press back against him, perhaps as eager for more as he is.

"Patrick..." He groans at the way Pete breathes his name, like a song, like a prayer, like everything and nothing contained in two perfect syllables. "Fuck... I'm..."

"You're what?" He prompts, hopeless with the need to hear Pete say it. "What are you going to do, Pete?"

"I'm..." He trails off again, reaching back and tangling his fingers in Patrick's hair, craning his neck back to meet his lips. "Oh God, I'm..."

He pauses again, whining in frustration as Patrick's hand slows and stops.

"I want you to say it," he growls, pausing to suck hard on Pete's neck. "Fucking _tell_ me what I'm going to make you do."

"Please," Pete squirms against him, trying to get some pressure back on his cock but Patrick resists, pulling him back from the counter just a fraction of an inch, just enough. "Please. I need you to make me come."

Patrick doesn't tease him any further, hand pressing perfectly against Pete's cock, using exactly the stroke, the speed, the pressure that he knows he loves, that he knows will have him moaning his name. Within seconds Pete tenses in his arms, a soft cry slipping past his lips as he strokes harder and faster, holding him tightly as his legs buckle slightly and he almost slips against the counter. He can feel Pete's cock throbbing in his hand, feels the wet, sticky pulse of his come oozing over Patrick's palm. His hand slows and finally stops, Pete's body limp and trembling against him as he gently withdraws his hand, slipping both arms back around Pete's waist as he nibbles lightly on his neck.

"You okay?" He whispers into his ear.

"Yeah," Pete turns in his arms, stroking a hand gently over his cheek.

Patrick forces his eyes open, keeping them trained on Pete's as he closes the distance between their lips, allowing them to drift closed as their mouths finally meet. This feels more intimate than anything that happened in the past few minutes, Pete's hands soft against his face, his lips parting as Patrick sweeps his tongue gently over his lower lip. Pete kisses him back like he's been starved of Patrick's touch, like he'll never get enough of Patrick's mouth on his, Patrick's tongue, Patrick's hands on his body. He gives them all willingly, kissing him until they're both breathless with it. And when he tells Pete he's missed him he means he can't bear to be apart from him ever again and he knows when Pete replies that he feels the same.

They stand in the kitchen sharing kisses, soft caresses, murmured promises, for what could be ten minutes or could be two hours, Patrick no longer has any idea. But as with all good things, it comes to an end as Pete breaks away from his embrace, hand slipping into his as he heads down the hallway to his bedroom. As soon as they're through the door Pete's undressing him, pulling at the buttons on his shirt, apparently not caring if he manages to unfasten them or if they're ripped off, shoving it back off his shoulders as soon as it's unfastened.

"Slow down," Patrick murmurs, catching Pete's hands in his and brushing a tender kiss to his lips. "There's no rush..."

"No rush," Pete raises an eyebrow. "I've waited a fucking year."

Patrick chuckles, shrugging off his shirt, watching Pete intently as he trails a hand down from his shoulder, over his chest and down to his stomach, tracing his fingers through the reddish blond hair there. Pete's eyes drink him in hungrily and Patrick delights in it, in the knowledge that he's touching him because he wants to, not because he has to. Pete's fingers slip under his belt, grasping a handful of leather and denim as he looks down, eyes drawn to the outline of Patrick's cock, pretty fucking obvious in jeans this tight. Patrick's eyes close and he snarls out a curse as Pete squeezes him lightly through the fabric. He takes a moment to kick off his shoes before pushing Pete back to the bed, tripping over discarded clothes as he does so.

"For fuck's sake, Pete, have you never heard of laundry baskets?"

"Fuck you," Pete mutters against his lips, pulling him back onto the bed with him.

"Only if you ask nicely," he feels Pete's smile mirrored against his own.

He grasps the hem of Pete's shirt, pushing it up slowly, revealing his skin inch by inch. He dips his head, mouth closing over one nipple, sucking and grazing it lightly with his teeth, gently pinching the other between his finger and thumb. Patrick's vaguely aware of a deep, rumbling groan, realising after a few seconds that it's him. There's a brief moment of loss as Pete half sits, just enough to yank the shirt over his head and discard it to join it's brethren scattered across the floor and then he's back in Patrick's arms, his mouth exploring his bare skin greedily. Pete shoves him onto his back and climbs on top of him, hands braced against his chest, fingers running over the contours of him.

"I've missed you," Pete whispers softly, eyes meeting Patrick's. 

Patrick reaches up, touches Pete's cheek lightly.

"I've missed you too," it's so inadequate, nowhere near enough to cover how truly shitty the past year has been without him, without them, but Pete's unfastening his jeans and his ability to form coherent thoughts and sentences is diminishing rapidly.

Pete taunts him, slowly rolling his belt out of the buckle, his hands "accidentally" brushing against Patrick's cock in the process so deliberately it sends electric shocks racing up and down his spine and yet so lightly that it makes him want to cry with frustration. Once the buckle is unfastened Pete sets to work on the button of his jeans, then the zipper, so slowly Patrick swears he hears each fucking notch click. He whines unintelligibly, hips straining up in a futile effort to get Pete to touch him faster, harder, right fucking now but he laughs in response.

"What's the rush?" Pete laughs, leaning down and pressing his lips to Patrick's neck, sucking at his pulse point as he groans quietly.

Pete straightens and his hands move back to Patrick's crotch, gently rolling down his jeans until his cock springs free. He's so fucking hard it's almost painful, he can feel each throb of his pulse there, he needs Pete to touch him, more than he needs air in his lungs or blood in his veins.

"Would you like me to suck your cock?" Pete asks softly, trailing one finger from base to head.

"Oh God yes," he groans. "I'd like that more than just about anything else I can think of right now..."

Because of course now Pete's said it, he can't actually think of anything else. Patrick raises his hips as Pete eases his jeans down a little further, kicking his way out of them completely before reclining back on his elbows, watching him as he kneels at his hip. Patrick bites his lip, hard, as Pete lowers his head, eyes still locked on Patrick's as he begins to kiss his thigh gently, making his way slowly towards his cock.

"Pete, please..." Patrick murmurs, fingers tangling in Pete's hair as he tries to urge him onto his cock.

Pete resists, running his lips gently up the full length of his cock as Patrick mutters a string of nonsense, begging and pleading that he'll give Pete anything, do whatever he asks, anything at all as long as he just sucks his fucking cock, trailing off in a grunt as he sucks quickly on the head, just for the briefest moment, just enough to make Patrick's hips jerk and his fist tighten in Pete's hair. His pulse is racing, his world reduced to this room, this bed, Pete's lips and his cock as finally, oh sweet Jesus finally, Pete takes pity and takes him into his mouth.

Patrick closes his eyes, stars exploding behind closed lids, because if he watches his cock sliding in and out of his mouth he's going to come in seconds. Pete sucks him like he's never going to get the chance again, like he's desperate for him, like it's the only thing he wants to do and it's the horniest thing Patrick's ever experienced. Pete wants his cock, craves it, desires it, desires him, wants him. Pete's hand is suddenly wrapped around him and he bucks up to his touch, his palm and mouth working together perfectly as he strokes Patrick's shaft whilst working his tongue around the head.

Patrick lets go of his hair, pausing briefly to suck a couple of fingers into his mouth then his hand running down Pete's back and over the curve of his ass, groaning quietly as he arches into his touch. Patrick's hand moves back between Pete's legs from behind, shoving his shorts down and pushing his fingers inside of him, first one, then two, working his hand in rhythm with Pete's mouth. Pete moans and the vibration travels through Patrick's cock deliciously, he's going to come in Pete's mouth and it's going to be fucking incredible. He can no longer think of anything but the tight heat of his mouth on his dick paralleled by the tight heat of Pete's ass on his fingers. He can feel the knot of pressure building in his groin as he twists up frantically towards Pete's mouth, he's so close, so very fucking close.

"What the fuck?" He groans hollowly as Pete stops at the last possible second, that wonderful moment as he teeters on the very edge of oblivion. "Dude, you're fucking killing me."

He gathers himself together, rolling over so he has Pete pinned beneath him, hands braced either side of his head as he devours Pete's mouth with his. Patrick pulls back and kneels between Pete's legs, urging him out of his shorts and takes a long moment just to admire him, naked and not remotely self conscious, below him.

"My turn," Patrick whispers, leaning over her once more and laying a trail of soft, sweet kisses from Pete's lips down over his throat, down across his chest, over his stomach until he's settled comfortably between his thighs. 

Patrick presses soft, wet kisses against Pete's thighs, drawing gradually closer and closer to where he knows Pete aches for him to be. Pete won't beg though, he knows that, not yet at least. He slides an arm under his thigh, reaching around and gently grasping it, pulling it back, opening him up a little more to his gaze and his mouth. He glances up, smiling at Pete as their eyes meet.

"I've missed this," he murmurs. "So fucking much."

Pete just nods, amber eyes heavy as Patrick bites gently at the place where his thigh joins his groin, eliciting a little gasp, a little twitch of Pete's half-hard cock. Patrick smiles, grasps Pete's knees and pushes them up towards his chest.

"Good?" He asks softly, not pausing for a response before he slides his tongue inside of Pete, moving it in a slow, easy rhythm that has him gasping an almost inaudible curse.

"Patrick..." Pete's so close to begging, he can hear it in his hard, shallow breathing, the way he makes Patrick's name sound like a request, like a plea.

He slows his tongue until he's completely still against him, pressing a kiss to he head of Pete's cock before he untangles his arms from his thighs. Pete's hands are still in his hair, attempting to shove him back down but he resists, kissing his way back up, pausing to suck a nipple between his lips, smirking as Pete gasps.

“Lube,” Pete groans and for a moment Patrick has literally no idea what he's talking about, stares at him blankly until Pete repeats himself with a scowl, gesturing to his nightstand. “Fucking lube, man. Top drawer.”

Patrick nods and fumbles and soon his cock is coated and slippery smooth, he presses his fingers into Pete once more, rubbing his prostate and smirking as a drip of pre-come oozes from Pete's still-not-quite-hard-enough cock.

Patrick rolls off him and onto his back, urging Pete on top, hands running gently over his hips, Pete's resting a little further onto Patrick's stomach than he needs to, Patrick's dick pushed down and back against Pete's ass but if he raises his hips, slides them back just an inch or two and then pushes down... He swallows heavily, watching his own hand as it slides up and over Pete's hip, up the soft skin of his side before sliding across his chest, fingers straining ahead as he touches Pete's throat then he's touching Pete's cheek, their eyes meeting as he smiles.

"You okay?" Patrick asks for the second time, this is Pete's last chance to stop, to call a halt to everything and send him away.

"Yeah," Pete replies as he raises his hips, slides back a few inches and then pushes down slowly, just how Patrick wanted him to. Patrick feels his cock sliding into him, engulfed in tight heat. Fuck, he's so fucking tight.

Patrick's hands slip back to Pete's hips, following the movement as he embeds his cock inside of him completely. He digs his fingers in hard, hard enough to bruise, holding Pete still as he gasps for breath. Pete wriggles against his grasp a little, trying to move but fuck, if he does Patrick's going to fucking explode and that isn't how he intends this to end.

"Stop," he groans. "Just... give me a minute..."

Pete laughs breathlessly above him, reaching for his hand and guiding it to his cock. He strokes slowly at Pete's cock, head rolling back onto the bed as he begins to rock his hips slowly against Patrick's. He breathes deeply, slowly, tries to concentrate on anything but Pete sliding deliciously against his cock which, irritatingly, is the one thing he really does want to concentrate on. He opens his eyes, watching Pete as he rides him, the way his lips part in a soft moan, the way his hair is nothing but a sweat slicked mess, the way Pete looks at him, oh god the way he looks at him, like he wants him, it's been so long since anyone has looked at him like that and he basks in it, knows he's looking at Pete in exactly the same way.

"Tell me how it feels," Patrick murmurs, rubbing Pete's cock a little harder, just a tiny bit faster. "My cock inside you, how does it feel?"

"So good," Pete pants, his pace on him increasing. "You have a huge dick for a little guy."

Patrick chuckles breathlessly, a dirty little laugh that hitches in his throat as Pete stops suddenly, slipping off him as he whines in confusion, no idea at all as to why he's no longer inside of him. Pete drags Patrick on top of him, wrapping his legs around him once more, their lips meeting hungrily before Pete pulls back long enough to speak.

"I want you to fuck me, Patrick," he all but growls at him.

Patrick nods pointlessly, he has no intention of arguing with him, lining his hips up before driving into him hard and fast. Pete hitches his legs a little higher on Patrick's waist, allowing him to go that little bit deeper. He's aware of Pete's hand moving down between their bodies, his hand working his cock. Patrick rolls his hips in a slow circle as he thrusts into him, dripping with sweat, teeth clenched, desperate with the need to come deep inside of him. Their lips meet again and it's frantic with lust and desire and an agonising need that he couldn't articulate if he tried.

"Harder," Pete instructs, his heels pressing into Patrick's back and urging him along. He complies willingly, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into him, delighting in the breathy moan Pete makes on each thrust in. He can feel that tight heat in his groin again, a delicious ache that he's not sure he can fight any longer.

"Pete," he whispers desperately. "I'm not sure how much longer I can..."

Pete's hand moves a little faster, his breath hitching in his throat. The angle they're at he's pretty much punching Patrick in the chest with each stroke, a drum beat that pounds in Patrick's ears. He props himself up a little further so he can watch him, watch the way his eyes close and his head tips back, a little frown of concentration creasing his brow. He keeps his thrusts deep and hard, grinding down onto him as his hips arch up to meet him. Pete moans his name softly and he struggles to hold it together, determined he'll see him come.

"Oh fuck," Pete cries out as his orgasm hits, his body jerking against Patrick as his thrusts grow frantic. He can feel Pete tightening around him, feel the warm stickiness of Pete's come coating his stomach and chest. Pete's moaning his name over and over, breathy and soft and he can't hold on any longer, his movements sharp and deliberate as he drives into him, his hold on his self control snapping as he comes.

It's so intense that for a moment it almost hurts, the throb of his cock perfectly matching the thunder of his pulse in his ears. His mouth crashes desperately into Pete's as he continues to thrust into him through the haze of pleasure, willing it to last just a minute longer. Finally exhausted, he stills, burying his face in Pete's neck as he pants in a vain attempt to draw enough oxygen into his lungs. He's vaguely aware of Pete stroking his hair, that he's resting his full weight against him and probably ought to move. On the other hand, his cock is still buried inside of him and he has no intention of bringing that sensation to an end until Pete tells him to.

When he's recovered a little he raises his head, meeting Pete's gaze with a smile. He presses his lips gently to Pete's before taking a deep, steadying breath.

"That was fucking amazing," he murmurs.

"The best," Pete agrees emphatically. "Trick?"

"Yeah?"

"You still have the fucking dorkiest come face."

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Let me know!


End file.
